


To All the Boys I've Loved Before

by mariposaroja



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: Marc likes guys. But he can't exactly tell anyone that he likes guys. So to cope with serious crushes, he writes a love letter that he'll never send and shall remained stowed away in a box under his bed for the rest of time.Except someone obviously didn't get the memo...





	To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Whoever decided that writing your feelings down made things better was a fucking fraud, Marc realised all too suddenly as he found himself trapped between the ghosts of boyfriends (but not really) past, with absolutely nowhere to run. Taking a step back instinctively, Marc weighed his very limited options, trying to swallow the lump that was currently constricting his throat.

_How the fuck did you manage to find yourself in this situation, Marc??_

Truth was, he had absolutely no idea. And he didn’t exactly have time to contemplate all the possibilities either, seeing as he was currently in clear and very present danger, from not one but _two_ very confused colleagues.

“Marc-“

He had to do something, and quickly, because he might not have been able to avoid one of these confrontations but he sure as hell was not having two excruciatingly awkward conversations today. No way. In a stroke of sheer genius or complete madness, Marc decided to do the only thing he could think of: he turned his back on the man who was swiftly approaching, only to fall into the arms of the other, who hadn’t even enough time to question what was going on before Marc’s lips descended on his.

Taken aback as he was, he allowed it to happen, and soon Marc’s hands were tangled in his hair, clinging to him for dear life as their mouths moved together.

_You may have averted one crisis, Marc, but you definitely opened a can of worms than cannot be closed again…_

*

When Marc was ten, he found himself in love with Oliver, a fourteen year old English boy who had been staying with his friend’s family for the summer on an exchange. Or at least he _thought_ he had been in love, finding out not too long after that he really didn’t know the meaning of the word. Still, Oliver was the coolest boy Marc had had the pleasure of knowing at the time; his accent was smooth and refined, and he was from _London_. That in addition to his pale blue eyes and sandy coloured hair had Marc absolutely weak at the knees.

In fact, it wasn’t until Oliver showed up in his Arsenal jersey and jeans that he became sure that he actually liked boys more than girls.

Of course, he couldn’t exactly tell anyone that; not least Oliver, who would likely never speak to him again at best if he knew, and ridicule him at worst. Luckily for Marc, however, he realised early on how he could and should deal with crushes that couldn’t be known of by anyone but himself. He’d read in one of his school novels that writing your feelings down made you feel better, so that was what he did, only instead of just scribbling something down on a piece of paper, he wrote a love letter.

A love letter that would never be seen by anyone but himself. A love letter that said all the things he knew he would never be brave enough to say.

It was written as carefully and meticulously as one that would be displayed in a museum, for the world to see, even though it remained pitifully unfulfilled in its addressed envelope in a box beneath Marc’s bed.

There it stayed in solitary confinement for almost four years, before it found itself a mate. Joan, with his blond hair and olive green eyes, had been the first boy that Marc ever kissed. Though, he supposed, in reality it hardly counted as a kiss. He had been at one of his friend’s birthday parties, and no one had believed he would be brave enough to kiss a boy from the year above him in a very juvenile game of Truth or Dare. Torn between laughing and crying, Marc only prayed as he shakily moved his mouth onto Joan’s that no one would guess that he actually enjoyed it, and would very much like to do it again.

As per the rules of fight club, no more was ever mentioned about it, though Marc sometimes wished it would be. That someone else would be brave enough to say the things that he couldn’t.

 

Much to his shame, Pol Espargaró was the next. And, well, the less said about that horrible lack of judgement the better.

 

As he grew older, however, and more into who he was as a person, his tastes changed. Marc wasn’t exactly sure when it occurred to him to find his _crew chief_ hot, but the day he realised that, while Santi had been berating him for bringing the bike back in bits once again, he would very much like to get his knees dirty for him was an awakening of its own.

For a couple of weeks, Marc skirted around him in every way he could, until the time finally came to write a letter or completely lose his sanity. He did, and it joined the exclusive club in that dark box beneath his bed.

It certainly helped. Marc could then look at the older man and think ‘ _you know all this. I already laid it all out black and white for you in my letter. You know how I feel about you and you don’t return those feelings.’_

After he’d successfully navigated his crush on Santi and it had waned over time, Marc considered himself a master of supressing his feelings, of controlling them…

 

That all went out the window when Dani came into the picture.

No matter how many times he’d fancied himself in love before, none of it had compared to how he felt about the Repsol Honda rider and, eventually, his team mate. Marc had never come across someone that he would blindly do _anything_ for, no matter what the cost. Dani, who was still a beautiful person when he should have been bitter and jaded by all the bad luck that had found its way to his door. Dani, who didn’t smile that often but when he did it lit up Marc’s entire world.

Dani, who was straight and had a beautiful girlfriend for years and years until one day he didn’t.

As much as Marc loved him, Dani drove him insane.

It was on the day that he casually, if a little morosely, mentioned that he and the woman they all thought he was going to marry had parted ways that Marc finally caved and wrote the letter. Though, it was a miracle that he actually managed to with all the work his right hand had been doing lately…

One thing that struck him, however, as Marc tucked the sealed envelope away for safe-keeping, was that it didn’t feel like the others. There was no ‘ _okay, you’ve had your fun but it’s over’_ moment. It felt good, of course, to write down on paper those feelings which he had been supressing for a couple of months now, but all it took was one wry smile in a team meeting for Marc’s smile to swell to five times it’s normal size once again.

 

And that’s how it remained, which was fine. Marc realised that the feelings he had for Dani were more than just sexual attraction, and that was okay. Dani would never return them but he could deal with that.

 For now, at least.

 

 

 


End file.
